


HELENA

by RoseBlood93



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling, Ravenclaw - Fandom, Virtual Hogwarts
Genre: F/F, Harry Potter - Freeform, Multi, Ravenclaw
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-28
Updated: 2017-10-08
Packaged: 2018-12-20 21:43:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11929869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoseBlood93/pseuds/RoseBlood93
Summary: This is the story of Helena Ravenclaw and the events that lead to her death, becoming the Grey Lady.





	1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

I wish I was here. But, I’m not. I’m half way in and out of mind, lost in the phantasmagoria of my subterfuge. If I could take it all back… If only I could be the witch I was supposed to be. My magic has always been strong. My mind, sharp as a straight razor’s edge. But, my hubris has always been my undoing. Mother was right about that one thing. But, she wasn’t always. 

What was it that the beautiful mind one of our greatest Ravenclaws le Fanu had written? “But dreams come through stone walls, light up dark rooms, or darken light ones, and their persons make their exits and entrances as they please, and laugh at locksmiths.” Some days, I’m the wistful, languid girl floating through these stone walls. I help those young children study to become the greatest witches and wizards the world had ever known. Most turn into philosophers, or professors. Others help muggles in the fight for curing deadly ailments. But, most days I’m the locksmith: brazen, yet the fool I am. 

My eternal damnation keeps me bound to this mortal plane. Memento mori, I’d say. But now, I do not dare come from my tower, as centuries are a long time to reflect in my greatest regret. And, nothing I do ever helps. Always more harm follows in my wake. “I am become death. Destroyer of worlds.” I had to go and get myself in a mass of trouble in quest to prove that I’m my mother’s daughter. That, I could do more than just be the name of the founders, hidden in her obelisk. 

I was supposed to be the smart one. I was supposed to rule the world with my wit. Make wizard and muggle alike bend their knee. Most of all, I was supposed to climb out of the colossal shadow my mother cast, building the foundation of Hogwarts, brick by boring brick. “Wit beyond measure is man’s greatest treasure.” More fool you, mother. 

You didn’t know, nor did you ever care. The only thing you cared for was your damn diadem. Maybe if you listened, I wouldn’t have had to take it. Maybe, I would have lived up to my name. Maybe for once in my damn life, I would have made you proud. But, I am NOTHING but your liability. My magic was never good enough for you, was it? And nor was my love.

I loved HER, and if you just saw that... If you only saw we were happy. I wouldn’t have had to dethrone you to finally get you to give a damn about me! The fool I am... You sent him. You always sent someone else to do your dirty work instead of taking care of your own clan and kin. And, yes, it was the fault in my stars, however it haunts me even so. I messed up, yet again. Another strapping, young wizard shows up, promising me freedom; promises me that I may be with her again. He spoke with a silver tongue with a roguish grin, and a power the likes the world had never seen. 

He spoke to me. His soul rang out, mirroring my own. His pain, his remorse, they danced with my demons, and I gave him the piece of me that would have fixed every mistake I’ve ever done. But, like always, I was wrong. You hear that mother?! I was wrong. 

What have I done… But, to know me, to help me destroy the horcrux that I’ve created, we must begin at my end. “O time, thy pyramids.” My name is Helena Ravenclaw. And, this is how I died.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continuing onto Helena's adventures in Hogwarts, she gets into it with her mother, while a man she's been fighting off advances with for years tries to make a move.

Chapter 2

I lay in waiting, the brilliant heat ball in the sky beating upon my face while a quill danced circles upon parchment next to me. My finger flicked in circles, while sharp letters rose and fell upon it’s canvas, scribing the details of the slowly setting sun against the backdrop of a picturesque, remote stonehaven. Hogwarts had yet to be finished. Witches and wizard stone masons waved their wands, casting spell after spell, while Uncle Godric and Auntie Helga caught themselves in a screaming match again about which way the bell tower should face. They were always at one another’s throats. Uncle Salasar kept to himself in the dungeons and the girl’s lavatory. If you ask me, he was a bit of a louse.

As I knew it, in the early days, the courtyard was quaint. Large stone pillar walls spiraled around the surrounding guard towers on all four sides. A few shacks lay around with a gargantuan stable and inn for traveling wizards to come all hours, while Hogsmeade refused to take in any more unwelcome guests, drunk on too many butter beers.

The Inn held a feast hall with many, many rooms attached to more rooms for the workers. Our great hall was for students only, however I have long since graduated from this institute for higher learning. I stayed in the inn, away from the tower as much as possible. I was studious, like my Mother before me, however I prefered the company of these merry men and women. The inn provided warm food for their bellies and songs to lull them to sleep.

A creek ran through the side of the stone work a few paces toward my right. Bushes of verbena lay stacked around the walkways of the courtyard in my kingdom come. Stone benches set perfectly aligned with every section of verbena. Father had stated they were Mother’s favorite flowers. That’s all I remember of him. Everything was always about Mother. When in full bloom, they radiated the most brilliant white center with a royal purple hue. Fitting for the banner of house Ravenclaw. They bunch in groups of ten to twenty in natural bouquets, much like the servants during their down time, huddled together, gossiping about which witch transfigured their defiant house-elves and the latest Bicorn incursion, suckling upon the bosoms of deceased, devoted husbands. But, at least they are great for the polyjuice. I was in a constant state of perplexity by how anyone could find those flowers the most gorgeous. I preferred roses. 

I got caught up stewing in my own thoughts, as I closed my lamps tightly, allowing the sun to wash over me in a baptism of radiance, my quill violently flickering about, no longer scribing the history of Hogwarts, rather my own diary. It scratched through several of the lines, drawing scribbles before the parchment levitated, wadding up, and then flung itself down the hillside. I slapped my forearm across my brow, shielding my eyes from the brilliance, the other laying on my stomach. My frog, strung to my hip, lay vacant as my wand lay cradled in the palm of my dominant hand across my brow. The polished mahogany finish glistened in the sunshine, blinding passer-bys. I didn’t even have to cast a lumos.

One of my knees propped upright in my brown slacks, my dark brown, scuffed boot pressed perfectly with the line of West. Mother hated that I wore trousers, however they were the most comfortable to ride a hippogriff and run with centaurs. She’d prefer if I were a dignitary who wore strapping dresses and delegated with other elder wizards of the clans to find a suitable husband. My glock of a Mother knows not that I’ve no taste in men. Rather, I allow her to believe my standards are set to the highest caliber. Not like they aren’t already.

My thoughts drifted like a leaf in the wind, whisking all dreary day dreams to and fro at a moment’s notice. I sucked in the warm air from my nostrils, curling my long, silky fingers around the blades of grass before exhaling my serenity. My raven hair swirled around my shoulders, dancing in the twirling curls, like a pool of mercury. My lamps lay shut and the vibrant pinks in my eyes from the blinding light suddenly grew dark. I peeked one open, peering at a set of beady, topaz eyes, staring back at me. I sighed sharply. 

Baron Cornelius Filch sneered a crooked, toothy grin overtop of me. His whiskers curled in circles about the corners of his lip, which turned my stomach. He followed me like a lost crump, with the temper of a Ukranian Ironbelly, and the rancid fire breath to back it up. The Baron was two years my junior, graduating head boy of house Slytherin. 

“Good afternoon, Milady.” He bowed before me, curling his hand under his chest, extending his arm. He leaned back upward, propping his reach toward me. I rolled my eyes, slapping it away, quick as I could. His cheeks puffed with a reddening hue. 

“What do you want, Cornelius?” I drily groaned.

“Your mother wishes for a word.”

“And, she couldn’t have sent an owl? Or, come to me herself?” I brushed the remaining blades of grass off my loose tunic top, quickly tying the strings about my neck so that the Baron of lard couldn’t catch a glimpse. He reluctantly turned away to my sneer of disdain. 

“My darling, it would have taken too long to scribe a parchment and find an owl when I was coming down here in the first place.” He poised himself, straightening his back to make himself taller, pressing out his leg in a promenade, like a steed cantering for a breeder.

“Which is a faux-chivalrous excuse to see me.” I slid my wand back into it’s holster. “And for the record, I am not “Your Darling”, Baron.” I snapped my fingers. A ribbon slid from the flap of my trousers, looping around my slender frame like a snake, tickling my shoulders and tied itself about my obsidian mane. He bit his lip watching my hair pull up from my shoulders. I could feel his sleezy eyes undress me. My skin bunched in little goose pimples, cringing. 

“I’ve brought you something.” He fumbled around his bumbag after a flabbergasted moment, catching his breath and then pulling forth trinkets, and goblets, and empties everywhere. I rolled my eyes with his continuous litterment. “Ah! Here it is!” He slid a weathered tome from the bumbag. “Since you like reading so much, I figured you’d enjoy this.” He set it in my pale, nimble fingers. 

“The registrar of every book in the Library of Babylon?” I cocked a perfectly angular brow at him. 

“Well, see, I figured since you like reading so much, you’ll always know what’s new. They fly them by owl, and Madame Ravenclaw said that this shows you when a new addition is found. Here!” He pointed to fresh words slowly inking on the page. “There’s a new one.” He nudged himself closer to me, pressing his shoulder against mine, his thumbnail overtop of the fresh ink.

“No need to repeat yourself, Cornie.” I pressed my lips, slowly drawing from him enough to where he wouldn’t notice. I thumbed through the pages, spotting books that Hogwarts had strictly banned. Alchemy of Immortality, Killing Curses and how to Influence Them, How to make Horcruxes, Guerilla Tactics using Polyjuice Potions, The Lusty Little House Elf… “Thank you. I guess.” I slowly turned the pages, shutting the book. 

“Now, off you pop. Your mother said, at once! She’s in the library.” I roll my eyes to his cooing, while I stick the book under my arm. “Should I tell--” And, just like that, swirls and twisting pulled me apart at the seams, apparating me away from the baron of lard, suddenly placing me directly in the center of the Library, right behind my mother. She had long, course raven hair and that damn diadem, proudly perched atop her crown. 

“Hello, Mother.” I dryly groaned, tossing Cornelius’s gift atop the tables, while leather clad tomes floated from shelf to shelf. Anthropodermic bibliographies whizzed over my head, soaring into the caged off section, labeled “restricted.”

“Helena, darling.” Mother did not even bat a lash, continuing on with her assortment. 

“You called. I answered.” I precariously perched myself atop the mahogany chair, slapping my muddy boots atop the desk, rocking myself backward. 

“Where’s the Baron?” She questioned, grimacing at my slacked posture. “And, I do wish you’d be more lady like. For example, say, taking those feet off of the furniture. It’s weeping willow wood. Have some respect.” I slowly pulled myself upright to a stand once more. If she doesn’t want me to be comfortable, I won’t. 

“He’s out.” 

“Meaning, you left without him.”

“Semantics.” I dryly cough. She turns to face me head on. 

“Helena, darling, I wish you’d focus more on your studies, than this grandious ideal of frolicing in the mud and kissing toads. Maybe even think about a sutor.”

“But, I am. Mother, my centar friends teach me way more than I could possibly dream!” I counter her badinage with my own. Auntie Helga said we are one in the same, almost clones of one another. But, I believe I am more like my father. Whoever he is. I press on to my mother’s dismay. “They run with me in the forest and--”

“--Do not think me cruel, my child, but I simply must forbade you from the forest.” Forbade me?! Who gives you the right, Maman?! I thought the whole premise of me coming to this damn school was for me to learn to be the greatest witch there ever is or was. 

“Why is it so forbidden?” I snapped.

“They are not our kind.” I did not just hear her say those words! How could she even begin to gather the audacity?! 

“None of them are our “kind.” Mother, how dare you write off a race not of your own. They are just as valid a teacher than anyone at this--”

“Do not think me like Salazar, little one.” She cantered. She is right about that one. She may be a stuck up loonie, but she never had to pretend not to be a holier than thou jackle, parading around like a crony, salacious, narcissistic oracle. She wove those colors high and with pride. “I see no difference between muggle or wizard or Hippogriff. I simply wish you’d not waste your potential with your head in the sand, boasting about these grandiose adventures with wildlings.”

“My po-- You care not of anything but yourself! You haven’t even noticed I AM living to my potential. But, you’re too busy with your wand up your arse, fawning over Cornelius to even give a damn about me!” Mother had enough, slapping me in the face. Books suddenly stopped whizzing about, students stopping dead in their tracks to watch the free show.

“I would not say such things if I were you!” She regained composure, slicking her hair behind her ears, while my grey eyes held storms about to spill into hurricanes. “What sort of fabulation do you live in?” She slowly folded her fingers around my shoulders, moving them up my neck, then finally resting at my cheeks. “Helena, darling, you think I do all of this because I don’t care?! You’re a Ravenclaw. Act like one.” She dropped her embrace, turning her back toward me. I had enough of this loonacy. But, she pressed on, scoffing in offence. “Seriously, I have never! You’re to be the greatest witch there ever will be. But, we are ladies, and ladies are still the bane of all civilizations, so say these male chauvinistic swine. But, you must play the game. I thought I taught you better than that.” I flipped about the pages in the book Cornelius gifted me, avoiding her gaze beating down upon me with both pity, and disgust. “Find a suitable husband at once. Make him fall in line and take my seat at Hogwarts. It’s your duty.”

“I’d rather die.” I flicked my finger, depulsoing the book across the room, slamming it into a suit of armor on the opposite end. Mother’s cheeks puffed and a redness swelled within her alabaster cheeks. 

“Helena Ilene Ravenclaw, you stop this nonsense this instant!” She boomed, like she she was calling a student into her office from the troll’s arse end of nowhere. 

“Come again?” I cock my head at her, raising to her challenge with just as much ferocity. For years, she had been priming me for my best childbearing age to pass along the Ravenclaw genetic of our raven locks and wicked wit beyond measure. It’s man’s greatest treasure, after all. Mother pressed her lips together, studying every contour of my razor jawline jetting out, chest puffed in defiance.

“I just… I wish you’d think about it. Please?!” She couldn’t bare to look at me any further. She often said when I get like this, I resemble my father. Uncle Godric claimed that he and Salazar got into it when I was a babe, as Salazar wanted her, but Mother refused his advances. In retaliation, he murdered my father. Rumor has it, I’m Merlin’s child. But, I digress. Mother hates when I’m so much like “him.” 

“Fine.” I turn away, not wanting to face her and this awkward conversation any further. She sighed in reprievance.   
“Excellent. Now, off you pop. I’ve a catalog to sort out. Poor Cornelius was chasing rogue tomes of ancient beasts through the moors again. It’s the least I could do. And, Helena?” She pasued.

“Yes?”

“He’s a little haughty, but he’s not a bad guy. Just… Think about it, alright?” There’s no way in hell I’d ever think about marrying Baron Cornelius Filch. It would be over my cold dead body that I even give one ounce of reciprocation. More fool you, Mother. I spin on my heal, picturing my bedroom in my mind as clear as day, as I apparate directly into it.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a continuing piece, made for my Harry Potter class, as one of our assignments is writing fanfiction. But, regardless of that, I hope you enjoy!


End file.
